


Sweetheart, Sweetheart...

by MixterGlacia



Series: Wipe The Slate Clean [2]
Category: Venom (Comics), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Body Horror, Gore, Murder, Other, Psychopaths In Love, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-05
Packaged: 2020-04-08 07:15:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19102291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MixterGlacia/pseuds/MixterGlacia
Summary: Since he started his reign of terror, one thing terrified everyone involved with Kasady's case. How violent would his soulmate be?





	1. The Lunatic

**Author's Note:**

> I somehow always end up back with horrific gore tags OTL. I've actually decided to open up requests, especially for soulmate AUS. Check out the description for the series: Wipe The Slate Clean!

Prison is a great place to meet your soulmate...at least, that’s how Cletus sees it. After all, his soul-mark was a doozy. One that lends itself rather nicely to his current location. Four ragged slashes of crimson and ebony carving across his throat. 

 

Oh the  _ possibilities. _ He just can’t wait to find the beast on the other end. When he was just getting to know what he  _ really _ was, Cletus had always fantasized over them. Perhaps they used blades. Such a classic, one the murderer was partial to himself. Or the mark might be more symbolic, and they could be a strangler, leaving pretty little lines of bruising in their wake.

 

Could they have been rather brutal, bordering on inhuman? Kasady rather liked to think of the fight that they’d share. Of course they would fight, he assures himself, a little manic giggle escaping him.

 

That causes the guard to jolt, full attention on the prison’s most infamous tenant. Ah, Cletus can see the pulse jump in the guy’s throat. If only they had met outside of these walls. The lunatic can’t help picturing how his captor’s would look on the receiving end of his reign of terror. How the poor fella’s blood would steam in the chilled night air. Damn this cage of his.

 

Then it happens.

 

Kasady’s mark twinges faintly. There’s pain, but nowhere near as bad as the man knows it gets. Not near as bad as he  _ craves. _ He must make a sound or something else that gives away the delightful ideas he’s entertaining, because his warden is pulling a face. Disgust, Cletus thinks. What a bore these lawful men were.

 

So begins the bland routine of being berated. Predictable and tiring, these games the officers play. The prisoner just tunes out his audience to revel in a fantasy of violence.

 

Who really gives a shit about what others think anyways?

 

That’s when a door opens somewhere down the hall. The echoes reach Cletus long before the final lock slides on the one to his little corner of San Quentin. Some thug is escorting a spiffy looking young fella. One of those kinds that the man had always wished he could have gotten his hooks into. 

 

He barely gives Kasady a glance before turning to a small group of science types. “You know the protocol. Let’s make some history.”

 

Aw man. Just as things were getting so interesting. That was so annoying. Here comes the automated restraints, and the prick of a cold, cold needle. Eh, so be it. There was more fun in the cards at least. With that, darkness overtakes Cletus.

 

* * *

 

 

They say you only get one hint. About your soul-mark’s meaning, that is. Cletus had always thought of himself as one of those that got jack shit. Maybe he did, but it was less of a direct push than most got. More like...a little nudge.

 

The sky. Something always drew his fractured mind to the cloud marred heavens. Since this whole being caught shit, the chances to observe were few and far between. What was that phrase? You don’t know what you have until it’s gone?

 

Meh. Doesn’t matter. Cletus had long since assumed it didn’t actually have anything to do with his soulmate.

 

Well, you know what they say about assumptions.

 

The felon wakes in some kinda lab. At least, that's what he thinks. Could be a really fucked up hospital with all the medical equipment he’s hooked up to. Whatever the jumbled up words meant on the screens, Kasady doesn’t care.

 

That’s because his mark burns so deeply, he’s reminded of the time he chose to set one of his victims a blaze. Oh how she had screamed when her flesh blistered up into welts that caught the light of the flames. Then in a flash, they were gone, bursting like little party poppers.

 

Could marks cause real damage? Gods he hopes so.

 

Snapping out of his daydreaming, Cletus notices there’s some kinda glass surrounding him here. Beyond that, a veritable army of folks in white coats. The fancy man is there. He speaks, no, he preaches to the crowd. All of these pretty toys just beyond his reach.

 

There’s a hiss, and one of the devices opens up. This yellow thing...sorta looks like a snot ball, rolls out of it. Slick sounds bounce around his new cell. The very tiny voice of reason in his head shrieks that this isn’t right.

 

For all the good it would do him, being strapped down like this. The goo latches onto Cletus’ leg, sinking into the surface. At first, there’s nothing. Then his soul-mark practically howls in pain. Not the good type either. It happens shortly thereafter.

 

_ O-oh no! No no!! _

 

That’s a new one, and Cletus has been through a  _ lot. _

 

_ You...you’re not ours! If they find out they’ll- _ Then like some sort of disgusting pus, the ooze pours out of his body. It slinks back into the large tube it came from, quivering in some sort of emotional display. Once the lid is remotely latched, Cletus can certainly say one thing.

  
He was so very  _ curious. _ Perhaps this was just what the doctor ordered.


	2. Is In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *puts phonemes in blender*

Over the next three months, they introduce two more tanks of sludge to Cletus. Each had a similar result as before. They’d take one sniff around his innards, panic, then flee. Now that’s not to say it wasn’t a joy to watch them squirm.

 

The blue one was soft spoken, voice like a mother. At least, that’s what Kasady thinks a mother sounds like. His memory was notoriously faulty. She’d been the shyest. When she eased into the flesh of his arm she paused, then said,

 

_ ‘You’re the one...n-not mine, but they-...hm. They know I make no claim against them. You two are...quite the f-fit. I’ve overstayed my welcome.’ _

 

“You don’t hafta leave, sweetie.” Cletus challenges. “Let’s talk, it’ll be fun!”

 

_ ‘I couldn’t do that.’ _ She protests.  _ ‘Your body isn’t mine t-to take.’ _

 

“Awww, really? I could give you permission, though.”

 

_ ‘No!’ _ She hisses, something brushes against the man’s diaphragm, stealing away his breath.  _ ‘I’m not going to be baited into a t-territory dispute. G-Goodbye, and please, t-tell them I didn’t take a-anything.’ _

 

Just like that, indigo bubbles out of Cletus’ chest and flees. Damn it all, there goes his entertainment.

 

Multiple tests resume after that. They’d ask him questions over a microphone, getting testy whenever he’d ask who the goo balls were afraid of. None of them talk, the observers insist. Liars, Cletus would assert.

 

Then there’s the other one. The black and white creature. It roared like a great cat when they first joined.

 

**Oh FUCK this, we’re leavin-**

 

“Nah, buddy.” Cletus demands. When ink starts to push from his shoulders, the test subject grabs a hold of it. “You and me, we’re gonna trade some info.”

 

**Like hell we are! You’re just as bat shit as they are!** Snarls the newcomer.

 

Kasady directs his anger now, viciously twisting the slime in his grasp. Somehow he feels an echo of that. Interesting. “C’mon now. Play nice and I’ll put in a good word for you with the one you’re all afraid of.”

 

**Just because you belong to-** Just then, a word that he can’t grasp. Sounds like ‘Maexiro’. At least, that’s the closest that the man can get.  **-doesn’t mean you get to call the shots. They aren’t** **_Xo’iro._ **

 

Ooo, a new player enters the game. “Xo’iro?”

 

That earns Cletus a scathing cackle.  **You** **_xelxiro’_ ** **all sound like** **_rarux._ ** **Pathetic.**

 

Cletus’ eyes take on a knife sharp glint. “I don’t really care what you think, but we’re gonna talk about your buddy.”

 

**_Maexiro._ **

 

“You got it.” He assures, playing with wisps of oil as they curl out from him. “Let’s start with you. What’s your name?”

 

**None of your business,** **_xelxirovlae’ Xelxirov._ **

 

“What’s that mean?” Cletus wonders, not expecting an answer.

 

**Fucks sake, are you gonna ask real questions?** They growl, the sound rattling his teeth.  **You’re not ours. You’re 'another's Other.'**

 

Fancy that. “I still gotta call you something.”

 

**FINE, you stupid prick, just call us** **_Xel’iie._ ** **You’d better let us leave now.**

 

“Why should I?”

 

**Because we’re about to start eating your organs, and we might just kill you since we’ve got that tube that keeps us alive.**

 

Oh now Cletus was having a great time. “Fine fine. You go, and I’ll keep everything you’ve said in mind.” With that, he lets the oil slick go free. No need to bother the thing anymore. As enjoyable as it had been, there was still an edge of wrongness that the man can’t shake.

 

Maybe tomorrow would be different. Probably not.

 

* * *

 

 

He was starting to get an idea now. That is, an idea of how to escape the lab. As fun as it was to get poked and prodded at, it was starting to lose its luster. Besides, Cletus was starting to get that itch to kill again. It was bad this time, he realizes as the crew shows up for today’s events. 

 

Team three this time, too bad. If today was the day, which it would be if things go well, Kasady would have preferred the chance to get his hands into the chest cavity of the one calling the shots.

 

_ ‘Drake.’ _ He notes to himself. It wouldn’t do to forget a target so quickly.

 

That’s when his soul-mark flares up again. It had never stopped. No, Cletus had just grown used to the pain. Now though, it was pulsing like a salted wound. Lovely.

 

His twisted pleasure is cut short when the special hatch in the ceiling opens up. It’s sorta like a mix between a claw machine and those tubes you see at banks. It was also Cletus’ ticket to the outside. Today marked the third month of his confinement here.

 

The intercom crackles to life, informing the murderer that his assumption was correct. Today was another slime day. Or whatever that fancy word of theirs was. Simbeeoats? He can’t wait to get at those researchers. He’d start by snipping off their fingers until he grew bored. Then he’d get to work on-

 

_ ‘Tsk tsk, Kasady.’ _ He scolds himself.  _ ‘You’re getting distracted.’ _

 

The now familiar canister emerges from the tunnel, presenting Cletus with his chance. However, he’s stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of the new goo beast. 

 

The high-tech soda can is safeguarding what can only be called breathtaking. A red he’d seen so often before. As bright as fresh arterial spray. On the other hand, these things move like month old blood, curdled and sickly looking.

 

Stunning. That’s what it was. The living embodiment of Cletus’ beloved gore. What a star, one he only thought could be found in fantasy. The idea the killer had tried to capture time and again was just being  _ handed _ to him.

 

The lid can't pop fast enough. Cletus actually reaches into the container himself this time around, arms engulfed in a cool embrace. The keys are in his hands now, or rather, his hands would _ be _ the keys. 

 

The pain in his soul-mark fades into nothing. Could this day get any better? That's when he hears,

 

**_We could bust out, for a start._ ** Oh how beautiful. The sound of a honey coated blade, rich and full of amusement.

 

“Oh yeah?” Cletus can't halt the grin from splitting his face.

 

**_Maybe even-_ ** They trail off, leaving a strange feeling of a book being flipped through. Except it was the man's brain.  **_Ah, there it is. Least, I think this is it._ **

 

Unconcerned with his usual audience, Kasady encourages his new pal to continue.

 

**_Let's paint the town red, morsel._ **

 

A chill down his back makes the host giggle. “Now you're speaking my language.”

 

Blood and oil swallow him at that. Knife sharp talons bite into the walls of his cage like it was candy. Then? Oh, this is the best bit. Then the beasts'- no. Then  _ their _ teeth snap through soft flesh and brittle bone. As fun as this party could get, they do have the issue of needing to escape. Plus, they were getting sort of full. Once they get past the doors, there was shockingly little resistance.

 

That sucks, Cletus was having a blast.

 

**_No worries, my sweet. We've got all the time in the world._ ** His soulmate purrs. 

 

Those claws were the last piece in a puzzle that the rest of the world never wanted him to solve. After all, who would complete a demon like Kasady?

 

**_My name's not Soulmate._ ** The purring stops, replaced by irritation.

 

“That's not a name.” Cletus retorts, finding himself pouting when the creature retreats beneath his skin. “What  _ should _ I call you, lovely?”

 

A small bubble of appreciation is felt at the pet name.  **_Let's go with Carnage._ **


	3. My Head

Cletus adores her...him?

 

**_I don't care, morsel._ ** Carnage sighs.  **_I roll with anything. Does it make a difference here?_ **

 

He sits back on his haunches, air cooling the body at their feet. One of his hands is playing with the intestines idly. “Nah. I don't give a shit what you are. As long as you're mine.”

 

There's that purr of theirs. The one that echoes in the marrow of Cletus’ bones.  **_Of course, my sweetling, of course... I hear the...cops? Those snacks in flashy cars._ **

 

“Ah, that was quick. Still had fun, though.”

 

**_Yup._ ** The sym-whatever confirms.  **_Want me to deal with it?_ ** They ask.

 

He does consider that, but has to decline. “Like you said, lots of time on our hands. Let's find a place to crash.”

 

That they do. It's an old ass building, certainly abandoned long ago. Which makes it perfect for the likes of them.

 

**_Hey, morsel!_ ** Carnage prompts.  **_Now that I've got you all to myself, let's chat._ **

 

Their host glances skyward, twirling a strip of skin he kept from their meal around itself until it forms a tight band.

 

“More like a bracelet.” He corrects.

 

**_Ah, perfect!_ ** The alien says.  **_Shit like that, you gotta tell me when I sound like a xel'rux._ **

 

“You guys keep using that language around me. I didn't even learn  _ mine _ right.” Kasady challenges. “I hope you don't expect me to get yours too.”

 

**_I don't. What's the word for something that's from another planet?_ **

 

“An alien?”

 

**_Cool. Now then, if you're done interrupting me?_ **

 

Most assume the serial killer hated back talk. They couldn't be more wrong. Cletus loves games, and this was just a part of that. It's all in good fun. “You don't need my permission, baby.”

 

A spray of crimson erupts from his chest. With an obsidian maw and moonstruck eyes, they captivate the man so completely.  **_“I'm not from this backwater planet. As your kind sees it, I'm a symbiote. What I'm getting at is sometimes I might need to take over for you. I can't do that and not sound native, can I?”_ ** The monster huffs, leaning down to snap up the strap of skin, swallowing.  **_“I've got your mind but shit can get lost in translation. I'm out of luck with no context.”_ **

 

Cletus runs his fingers through his soulmates slick mass. “You're doing great, Red.”

 

That makes Carnage scowl.  **_“Red?”_ **

 

“It's like all the pet names you call me. Or a nickname.” He pulls the symbiote close kissing the top of their head. “Something less suspicious than your own. Can't let 'em take you from me.”

 

**_“Glad to know you take your Other seriously.”_ ** Carnage observes.

 

“There's one of those translation issues. I think you might be talking about a soulmate.” The host responds, fiddling around with the alien. “Like your other half...guess Other makes just as much sense.”

 

Carnage nods.  **_“Last question, sweet bread.”_ **

 

“Ask away.”

 

**_“Why Red? It's a little plain.”_ ** They have a bit of a whine in their voice this time.

 

“Oh, that's an easy one. It's because we paint the town red.”

 

* * *

 

 

Three months later finds Cletus back behind bars. If the litany of lawyers and officers noticed the coppery sheen his soul-mark had gained, they didn't mention it. As long as his Other is safe within his cells, the man doesn't care.

 

Meanwhile, the public thinks Kasady is safe inside this one.

 

There's a laugh only he can hear.  **_Good one, morsel._ ** His symbiote purrs.  **_Now enough thinking. I'm trying to watch this._ **

 

‘This’ being the shitty TV outside of their cage. It was shoved out of the way, in a corner where it gathered dust. Wait...is that?

 

**_Oh goodie, Xel'iie made a match for once!_ ** Carnage hisses in mock enthusiasm.

 

The fireball though, that earns a spark of delight. Photos of the scorched lab are posted alongside an all too familiar face. “Oh Eddie~. You just can't keep outta shit, can you?”

 

**_I want to meet him, sweetling._ **

 

Their host agrees silently.

 

**_Wanna_ ** **eat** **_him._ ** The beast demands.

 

Cletus smiles, cold as ice. Even colder eyes fix on the fading image of the reporter that had been instrumental in his initial undoing. “You and me both, Red.”

 

Word of an exclusive offer reaches the pairs' target within a month. How lovely~.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey Eddie, just want you to know that Cletus can't fucking read and he's still not as dense as you are.


End file.
